


A Study In Black

by neonpython



Series: The Case-Book of Heaven's Templar [1]
Category: Twenty One Pilots
Genre: M/M, Sherlock - Freeform, soft
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-08-23
Updated: 2020-08-22
Packaged: 2020-09-24 12:21:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 5
Words: 6,678
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20358418
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/neonpython/pseuds/neonpython
Summary: "Mediocrity knows nothing higher than itself; but talent instantly recognizes genius."- Arthur Conan Doyle, The Valley of FearAKA Tyler's Sherlock and Josh is Watson and shit ensues.





	1. I

**Author's Note:**

> So I wrote this story about a year ago on wattpad and wanted to transfer it here to reach more people. It's gonna be a long one so buckle up kids.

_Josh woke up to the sound of a man screaming and his kitchen window shattering. _

Robberies weren't a rarity in this part of Josh's town, it was pretty much the hood where he lived, so he knew how to arm himself. He got out of bed, grabbed an aluminum baseball bat leaning against his desk, and walked into the hall.

He checked every room, which only consisted of the bathroom and laundry room, before heading down the hall. Loud arguing came from the farthest hall, followed by muffled punches and groans.

Josh stopped at the end of he hallway, seeing a figure in a hood being pummeled by another man in a suit. The man kicked the hooded person in the chest, grinning maniacally.

"Hey," Josh called out, thinking it was just a bunch of drug dealers duking it out in his apartment. "I called the police and I have a baseball bat, so both of you get the hell out of my apartment."

The man stopped his attack and looked up to where Josh stood. The cold, dead look in his eyes sent intense shivers down Josh's spine.

"I'm sorry, sir," the man said in a thick accent that Josh couldn't identify, which made him tense even more. "But the police won't do you or your partner any good."

"My partner? What are you-"

The man cut him off and raised a gun to where the barrel was aimed straight at Josh's head. Josh ducked and jumped back, barely missing getting shot. Bullets ricocheted through the paper thin walls, shattering the stair railing. Josh put his hands over his head, praying to any entity out there that he didn't get hit with one of those bullets.

"Holy shit!" The bat slipped from his hands and rolled down the hall. Josh peeked over his shoulder when the shooting stopped, seeing the man reload his gun. There were dozens of holes in the wall and the stairs, one lodged dangerously close to where Josh stood.

_I'm going to die here,_ Josh thought. _I didn't even get to finish that pizza slice in the fridge._

The bat stopped several feet away from the hooded person, who lunged at it. Josh's eyes widened as he stood, raised the bat, and whacked the man over the head with a large _thunk_.

The man dropped like a rock. Despite the man being knocked out cold and no longer a crazy shooter, the figure hit him again and again and again until the man's head was caved in and a pool of blood formed around his head.

He exhaled and wiped his brow, smearing blood across his forehead. Josh gulped and began to back up into the wall, afraid that he'd attack him next.

"I- I don't have a lot of money, but I could hook you up," Josh pleaded. "There's a dealer on the corner of 32nd street, in the back of the Dominos. Ask for Enrique and that Josh sent you, he'll hook you up. Just please don't bash my head in."

The figure finally noticed him. He pulled off his hood, squinting in Josh's direction.

The man had short brown hair sticking out in every direction. His left eye was swollen shut and the other had a blood red color replacing the white, like a blood vessel had popped in his eye. Blood ran down a corner of the man's mouth, and his forehead was split wide open.

"Who the hell are you?" He asked, tossing the bat to the side. It hit the ground in a loud echoing _clang_, making Josh flinch. "And where is Jenna?"

"Jenna?" Josh echoed, still frozen in place.

The man nodded, his lips curling in an annoyed look. "Yes, yes, Jenna. Jenna Black. Blonde hair, blue eyes. She's my partner. This is her apartment."

Josh looked at him to see if he was joking. He wasn't. "I think there must be a mistake. This is _my_ apartment. It has been for the past two months."

"No, this is-" the man paused and looked around. He walked into the living room and touched the coffee table. "This is her furniture."

Josh shrugged and scratched the back of his neck. He was curious, too curious for his own good, and kept talking. "Yeah, the last tenant left it when I moved in. I haven't been able to afford any other furniture, so I just kept it."

"What happened to the tenant before you?"

"I- I'm not sure."

The man sighed and rubbed his face, even more blood spreading across his face.

"Well, now that I'm here and we have some time before Weekes gets here, may I use your bathroom? Blood is awfully hard to get off of skin," He asked, already heading up the stairs.

Josh, stunned, stepped back, watching the man cross in front of him and into his bathroom.

His head was still reeling from the past five minutes. A man was lying dead on his kitchen floor, and the man who killed him is showering in his bathroom asking for a mysterious girl.

Sure, he'd seen gang fights firsthand before, but this was no gang fight. This was definitely going to screw up next month's rent.

The man peeked his head out of the door. "I know what you're thinking. Why is some random handsome man using my shower, and why did someone just try to kill him? The man on your kitchen floor is- or rather was- a Russian assassin sent to kill me, of course. It was part of my plan to take down an underground European Mafia, which quite frankly was harder than it may seem. I had to be undercover for three months, learn three different languages, and even let myself be kidnapped by Scandinavian assassins."

"Wait, woah woah woah," Josh held up his hands. "Slow down. You're a spy?"

"Freelancing vigilante, really."

"And you were undercover."

"For three months."

Josh bit his lip. "Right. And you were- you were trying to take down the _European Mafia_?"

"It was more of a drug cartel, really," Tyler said it casually, as if it was a normal occurrence for him to disassemble drug cartels during his free time. "You know. War dogs, drug lords, political assassination. The usual."

"Wait, did you just say assassination?"

"Well, yes. The attempted assassination of the Austrian Prime Minister, which I successfully thwarted. It was all over CNN, don't you watch the news?"

"Uh, no, actually. I don't have cable."

"Oh." The man frowned. "That's a shame. Well, we'll have to fix that."

"Sorry? We?"

"The police will be here in the eleven minutes, eight if someone heard and reported the gunshots, which I'm sure they have. I'm truly sorry to have barged in like that, I really thought Jenna still lived here."

The man sighed and closed the door again. A couple second went by and he opened the door again.

"My name is Tyler Joseph, by the way. Amateur detective, the crime solving stoner, consulting idiot, whatever they're calling me nowadays. Thank you for letting me use your shower."


	2. II

Josh didn't know what to do except stand in outside of his apartment building and wait for the police to arrive. Despite being February, the winter chill swept through the air. Josh, who stupidly stood outside with only a pair of sweats, a t-shirt, and house slippers, shivered in his shoes.

About ten minutes of standing and regretting even walking outside, the police arrived. At least six cop cars circled his apartment building, along with two ambulances. Josh didn't think that they even had that many cops in his city.

One officer stepped out of his car, and Josh walked outside to greet him. He had black, combed hair and a packet rolled in one hand. "I'm Officer Weekes," he said, shaking Josh's hand. "We heard you had a break in and shots were fired earlier, is that correct?"

Josh nodded. "Yeah, apartment 317. One of the guys, some skinny dude who was wearing a hood, is taking a shower in my bathroom. Weird guy, really. I think he was on something, I don't know."

Officer Weekes' face turned slack, but not in a disbelief kind of way. More like a "you have go to be fucking kidding me" sense. 

"Does he have short brown hair? Brown eyes? Tattoos?"

"Uh- yeah. Brown hair from what I saw. Tattoo on one shoulder I think. Um, I didn't see his eyes though. They were all messed up." Josh looked back towards the apartment building and hugged his arms. "He's not a criminal mastermind, right?"

The officer groaned and pressed on his temples with his fingers. "More like an idiotic mastermind. Why is he showering in your bathroom?"

"Because I had blood on my face, and you know how hard it is to wash off dried blood," a voice came from behind Josh. 

The man- Tyler, if Josh remembered correctly- stood in Josh's basketball shorts and college track hoodie, an unlit joint dangling from his lips. 

Officer Weekes rolled his eyes and held his hand out. "Tyler, we've talked about this." 

Tyler pouted before reluctantly letting the joint drop into his hand. Weekes tossed it to an officer who appeared at his side and unrolled the packet in his hand. He held it up to Tyler's face, reading it aloud.

"Three of the top deadliest European assassins turned themselves yesterday afternoon. 16 hours later, you break into an apartment building with the missing fourth?"

"Wait, that guy was actually an assassin? I thought you were joking." Josh was promptly ignored by both of the men, who'd started to argue.

"It's not my fault I had to disguise myself as one them for three months, Daniel. How else was I supposed to gain their trust?"

Officer Weekes- Daniel?- scowled and shoved a finger in Tyler's chest. "My name is Dallon, not Daniel. We had operatives working on the case. I specifically told you not to take the job. And what do you do?"

Tyler looked down like a child being scolded by their mother. "I took the job."

"Um, sorry, but what's going on here?" Josh asked again. Dallon and Tyler looked at him and then at each other. 

"I'm not telling him," Tyler said as Dallon opened his mouth.

Dallon heaved a sigh and flipped off Tyler. "This is Tyler Joseph, an internationally known consulting detective. He's like an off brand Sherlock, without the wit but with the crime solving."

"Off brand Sherlock?" Tyler shrilled, putting a hand over his heart in offense. "I thought I was more of a mad scientist minus the science."

Josh had no clue what was happening. Tyler had gone back to arguing with Dallon, who now looked about ready to strangle Tyler.

"I don't care if you had to send an unnecessary amount of troops, this was important!" Tyler threw his hands in the air in frustration. "Michael and Gerard Way are both out, and I'm the only one trying to track them down."

Dallon shook his head and pinched the bridge of his nose. "They are not out, they're dead. And they have been for quite some time," he said, exasperated.

Josh watched them bicker back and forth until the cold became too much for him the bear. Okay, he was exhausted and just wanted to go back to sleep and act like he didn't just see someone get murdered in his kitchen. He turned to walk back to his apartment when he heard Tyler call him. 

"Where you off to?" He asked.

Josh pointed to the apartment building. "Inside. I'm cold and tired and it's the middle of the night. If the police could tape off the dead guy on my kitchen floor and come back in the morning, that would be great."

Tyler smirked, and looked Josh up and down like he was examining a portrait.

"You're, what, twenty two? Living alone in an apartment you just recently rented, with furniture that's not even your own. It's safe to say you don't have much money to spend freely, and the spare change you do scrounge up goes straight to your freelancing artist job. That doesn't seem to be working out either, does it?"

Josh nodded his head. "I get it. You're some kind of Sherlock copycat, right?"

Tyler blinked in disbelief, obviously not expecting that reaction from Josh. 

"Uh no, I- I- I am a freelancing vigilante who is just very- er- observant," he stammered, looking between Dallon and Josh. "Tell him, Dylan."

"Dallon."

"Whatever," Tyler waved his arms in Josh's direction. "Tell this sleep deprived man child that I am not a Sherlock Holmes copycat. I am an original who just so happens to share the same intellect as a certain consulting individual. So, was I right?"

Josh crossed his arms over his chest. "Yeah, I do illustrations for children's books and I have no money for anything other than takeout and art supplies. So, you knowing my life story in a glimpse is supposed to excuse you breaking into my apartment in the middle of the night and killing someone on my kitchen floor?"

Tyler opened his mouth to argue, but closed it and huffed, looking irritated.

"That's the first time I've ever seen someone leave Tyler speechless," Dallon laughed, patting Josh on the back. "I'm Dallon Weekes, chief on Columbus Police Department."

"Josh Dun." He shook Dallon's hand, still shivering. 

Dallon pulled out a pen and paper and looked back as an ambulance drove into the parking lot. "Sorry to do this pal, but I'm going to have to ask you a couple questions. Since Tyler's testimonies aren't always unbiased, we'll need a second opinion."

Josh nodded, rubbing his arms. "Sure. Can I just get a jacket or something? It's cold as hell."

Tyler took off the hoodie he was wearing, tossing it at Josh. Much to his surprise, Tyler didn't have a shirt underneath, which confused Josh but he didn't say anything as he pulled it over his head. 

"Thanks?" Josh posed it as a question. After all, it was his jacket. 

Tyler nodded. "My pleasure. It was a terrible hoodie, anyways."

Dallon sighed in disappointment and Josh rolled his eyes. This guy was insufferable.


	3. III

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Forgot I posted this here whoops

Dallon clicked his pen against the pad of paper in front of him.

"Ready?"

Josh shrugged. "As ready as I'll ever be."

Dallon reached to the middle of the table and clicked the recorder on. He cleared his throat and began to read off one of his papers.

"What is your name?"

"Joshua William Dun."

"How old are you?"

"Twenty two years old."

"You live alone in apartment 317, that's correct?"

Josh nodded. "That's correct."

"The apartment that was previously preoccupied by Miss Jenna Black."

Tyler, who had been absently picking at chips in the table, tensed in the chair beside Josh.

"I'm not sure who lived there before me, actually. It's possible."

Dallon hummed low in his throat. "At 2:13 am, on the night of the 23rd, two men broke into your apartment through the fire escape, which was what woke you up md made you call the police?"

"Yes sir."

"Can you tell me what happened after that? What you saw and did?"

Josh cleared his throat and shifted in his seat nervously.

"Uh- I went downstairs with a baseball bat because there are usually lots of break-ins in my neighborhood, so I thought it was just two kids trying to rob me. But when I told them to scram, one of the guys- he was wearing a suit and had a heavy accent- started shooting at me from the end of the hall. I dropped my bat and hid. When I looked back, the other man had attacked the suit guy in self defense with the bat I'd dropped, whacking him over the head several times."

"Can you describe this second man?"

Josh glanced over at Tyler, who raised an eyebrow and smirked. Dallon already gave Josh a rundown of who Tyler really was- an international Sherlock Holmes who was already banned from several European countries, and was on the cusp of being banned from Canada and Nigeria. Why, Josh wasn't told, but it couldn't be anything good.

But just as Tyler had powerful enemies, his allies were even stronger. Josh wasn't to expose Tyler's involvement in the assassination of the Russian spies- he still couldn't believe that this scrawny manchild was the same person who helped take out three of the strongest gang leaders in the world and kill four of the most deadliest assassin- or else he could be sent to prison. Or worse, but Josh didn't want to think about what they meant by worse. 

Josh cleared his throat and looked back down at his hands. "I didn't see his face. It was covered by a bag, and he was gone before the cops arrived."

Dallon clicked off the recorder and Tyler patted Josh on the back, grinning.

"Knew you'd pull through," He said.

Josh shrugged Tyler's hand off of him. "It's not like I had a choice. It was either that or I'd probably end up like poor Ivan or whatever the hell that guy's name was in my apartment."

Tyler grinned menacingly. "Not probably, my dear friend. Definitely. Anyone up for lunch?" He stood up on the chair and made a beeline for the door. 

Josh sighed and looked over at Dallon, who was scanning through a pile of photos.

"Is that all?" Josh asked. "Can I go home now?"

Dallon looked up. "Actually, we're not done with our business in your apartment. We can get you a hotel room if you'd like."

"Yeah, okay."

Josh couldn't believe when he saw Tyler sit back down with a whole box of donuts, three croissants, two mugs of hot chocolate, and several handfuls of caramel candies. He spread them across the table, splitting it between the three of them.

"Tyler, what did we agree on with the sweets?"

Tyler rolled his eyes. "I need energy, Dallon. Quick energy, indulging energy."

Dallon scoffed and resumed scanning through the photos. "It's your body, not mine."

Tyler leaned over the table, snatching one of the photos and holding it up to his face. Dallon looked at Josh and shrugged.

"I know this place. The Louvre in Paris."

"No shit, Sherlock. What else?"

Dallon slid the rest of the photos Tyler's way. Tyler shuffled through them, his brows furrowing further and further together as he did.

"Jenna. She's in all of these."

"Jenna? The tenant before me?"

Dallon picked up one photo and held it up for Josh to see. It was of a blonde woman around his age with crystal blue eyes wearing a sundress. She was standing on a beach with who Josh assumed to be Tyler, holding coconuts with straws. They were both smiling and seemed genuinely happy.

Josh looked between the photo and Tyler. Tyler's eyes had sunken deep into his skull as if he hadn't slept in decades, fingernails bitten deep into the bed and bandaids covering the surface of his skin. A small pad of gauze was taped to his nose, with stitches going across his forehead where the Russian man had smacked his head against the kitchen sink. 

"This looks nothing like you," Josh said.

Tyler looked up from the pictures and scowled at Josh. "What? I look the same. Fit, dashing, unbelievably handsome-"

"Incredibly self-centered," Dallon muttered. 

Josh held up the photo beside Tyler's face. "Nope. That is definitely not you." He turned it. "See, this guy looks almost human. And you? Not even close."

Tyler's face turned pink as he became increasingly flustered. He grabbed the photo from Josh's hand, slipping it into his pants pocket.

"You shut your mouth, Dun," he hissed. "You don't know shit about me."

Josh held up his hands in self defense. "Hey, you're the one who broke into my apartment."

"Now I'm beginning to wish I'd driven that bat through your thick skull as well," he retorted.

"Tone it down you two," Dallon barked, making them both slump over in defeat. "We have more pressing matters at hand. Like why did one of our best assassins-for-hire disappear three months ago and where did she go?"

Tyler picked up a photo and held it up with two fingers. It was of Jenna at an airport wearing a pinstripe suit, a black curly wig, and sunglasses.

"Last I heard from her, Jenna was in Bangladesh on the tail of a blood diamond smuggler. A task like that shouldn't have taken longer than two weeks for someone of her skill. That was three months ago. I think something happened to her."

Josh poked at the croissant in front of him. "Why am I still here? I have nothing to do with this."

Dallon looked from Josh to Tyler, who just leaned back in his chair and hid his face with pictures. Josh could see him smiling slyly underneath.

"It seems that you already know far too much for a civilian," Dallon began. "I don't know much of your background military wise, but I do know you're a good sketch artist, so if you'd like, we could use your assistance."

"I'm a visual arts major who served a tour in Afghanistan," Josh deadpanned. "The most I have of a military background is my great grandfather fighting in 'Nam."

Tyler flicked a caramel at Josh. "You can draw realistic faces, right?"

"I guess, but I don't think-"

"Great. Then you're hired." Tyler stood up suddenly, knocking his chair over. He waltzed about of the room, turning to look at Dallon and wink before retreating.


	4. IV

Josh didn't believe Tyler at first when he said that he'd gotten him a job with the police force as a sketch artist. He went back to his apartment- the whole place was ransacked, some of his clothes and half finished art project were even missing- and believed the whole situation was over. The next day, however, Tyler was at his door with a bloody harpoon and a potato sack full of gold. 

It's hard to say no when a madman with a niche for chasing down assassins into civilian's apartment buildings is brandishing a harpoon at your doorstep and asking you to work with him. 

The first crime Josh was helping with was a suicide by jumping that Tyler was convinced to be the acts of a serial killer. Apparently, there had been five identical suicides in several different high buildings. There was no correlation between the victims or buildings except the fact that their stomachs were all full of rare, indigested flower petals. 

"So, what exactly do I do as a sketch artist?" Josh asked for the tenth time since they left the hotel. Dallon was driving him and Tyler to the crime scene in a police, with both of them in the backseat.

"You can take sketches of the crime scene, the body, take notes on how to be a proper investigator like yours truly, draw my gorgeous-"

"You just take statements from witnesses and create a portrait for any suspicious persons," Dallon interrupted Tyler, who only grinned and tossed a handful of sour candies into his mouth.

Josh nodded, staring at the sketch pad and pencil he'd brought along. He'd been mindlessly drawing Tyler the whole time, and though it was only half finished, it was recognizably him.

"Nice," Tyler said, barely glancing over. "I always thought I had an impeccable profile."

Josh rolled his eyes but continued to shade in where Tyler's neck met the collar of his coat. "I like to draw people around me for practice. It keeps me pretty well versed on realism, especially now that I'm a- a sketch artist?"

Tyler nodded. "For an international consulting detective and his police chief sidekick." Dallon snorted at the last remark.

Josh rubbed the sleep from his eyes. "Jesus. How did I get here?"

Dallon flicked his cigarette out of the window. "I ask myself the same question every day, pal."

"I'm not anything special," Josh said, trying to see if Tyler or Dallon would change their minds and drop him back off at his apartment. "I mean, I'm just a graphic designer for kid's books-"

"'A pretty shoddy one at that," Tyler mumbled. Dallon shot him a look through the rear view mirror before Josh continued.

"-and there are probably more experienced people who could fill in this job just as well as me."

"Don't worry," Dallon took out another cigarette and stuck it in his mouth. "From what your professors say, you're one of the best artists in the state."

Josh choked. "You talked to my professors? But why? I'm not even a fine arts major!"

"Background check." Tyler chewed on one corner or his thumbnail. "Why would a twenty two year old with a major in psychology and minor in graphic design, who changed their major three times within a single semester and was honorably discharged within two years of service after being shot in the right arm and left leg, twice in the leg, be so willing to work with the police after someone like me breaks into their apartment with a paid serial killer?"

Josh opened his mouth to ask him just how the hell he knew about his shoulder- not even his own estranged mother knew about his injury- but Tyler waved it off before he could utter a word.

"Oh please, I could read it like a book. Just like I can tell by the cuffs of your jeans and your marvel themed underwear-"

"How did you know they were marvel?!"

"-that you're the oldest of four, and your father died when you were young, leaving you to be the man of the household. Despite having a psychosomatic injury, insomnia, and hypoglycemia, you refuse to seek out your mother and other siblings. Perhaps they abandoned, or perhaps you left them because of a disagreement in lifestyles. Long story long, they found out about your boyfriend and kicked you out, so you joined the army to pay for college but was honorably discharged after being shot three times only two years later and here you are now."

Tyler clapped his hands together and squinted hard at Josh. He spread them apart. "So?"

"So?"

"What did I get right, and what did I get wrong? There must've been something I miscalculated, that's how the human factor works. You can only explain someone's life to them so thoroughly before the lines start to blur."

Josh sighed. "You were mostly right. I came out when I was seventeen and was kicked out two days after my eighteenth birthday. I haven't seen or heard from any of my family since then. You got the army thing right. I was discharged two years ago, when I was twenty one. I have no idea how you knew about the hypoglycemia and insomnia, but I don't really care. And yeah, it's psychosomatic."

Tyler grinned, clearly pleased with himself. He leaned back against the window, eyes glittering dangerously. He closed them and began to hum.

"I didn't expect to get everything right, if I'm going to be honest. There's always room for error when dealing with the human species."

"My injury happened after I fell off a cliff."

Tyler's eyes popped open. "No."

Josh nodded. He remembered it like it was recent enough to be at the front of his mind. And with his piss poor luck, it happened only two weeks before he was supposed to go back home.

He, along with his commanding officer and the medic of their camp, had been in a Humvee up in the mountains escorting an injured soldier when the man driving behind them had an aneurism and passed away. 

He remembered that when a sharp curve arrived, the humvee with the dying soldier inside sped up and hit the back of their vehicle, throwing them both off the cliff edge. Their Humvee flipped over and over and over until they reached the bottom and ended up on its side. Just twenty feet above them, the second Humvee got caught in a rock. 

If it hadn't stopped, it would've landed on them and crushed the whole vehicle, with everyone inside.

He remembered when the Humvee hanging about them exploded due to the grenade being so badly damaged they just combusted. 

Josh broke his leg in two different places, one of the bones in his forearm, and he had a severe concussion that almost left him deaf. The skin of his left thigh and knuckles were completely gone. The doctors had to take skin from his shin and use it to patch up the big gap. 

He had a thick bulging scar that ran from the inside of his right wrist all the way to middle of his elbow, the skin pale and smoothed over with time. A large patch of hairless skin stood out his left shin, and his knuckles had raised circles where his fists hit the dashboard with extreme force. The worst of the aftermath, just below his hip and taking up a fairly large portion of his upper thigh, never saw the light of day.

He didn't receive the worst of the damage, however. While he was in pain pinned under the passenger door, his commanding officer seemed fine at first, climbing out the wreckage and brushing himself off like the dive off the seventy-something foot cliff was just a simple fender bender. Turns out part of his spine had been severed and he was paralyzed from the waist down when they arrived at a hospital in Germany. And the man in the vehicle behind them died before the wheels left the ground.

The injured soldier, a young female private who had been hit while raiding a terrorist camp, was perfectly fine and survived both the fall and the gunshot to her chest. Coincidentally, her name was Private Ryan. Josh had told her that her namesake kept her alive, to which she laughed and simply replied "maybe you're just my lucky charm."

When Josh explained this to Tyler, he felt embarrassed about the bragging tone in his voice- like he somehow one- upped Tyler by having a background much more traumatizing than what he'd originally thought.

Tyler didn't say anything while Josh spoke. In fact, he looked quite amazed at the story. 

Tyler kicked his lips, tapping his mouth with both index fingers pressed together. "A psychosomatic injury that was all accidental. Interesting."

"Not when you're on the receiving end," Josh replied.

They pulled into the small parking lot of the five story building, where a body laid played across the concrete of the sidewalk. Josh could see the blood creeping its way from a pool around the victim's head and through the cracks. He felt a sick feeling churn in the bottom of his stomach.

Tyler hopped out before the car completely stopped. He pulled out a black bag that was tucked between his feet and slung it over his shoulder, looking over to see Josh hadn't moved yet.

"You waiting for an invitation? Let's go, army man." He slammed the door and walked up the steps to the stairs with an almost sadistic giddiness.

Dallon glanced through the back window, the look in his eye a cross between pity and understanding before putting the car in park.

"You better follow him in there," he said, snubbing the cigarette on the ashtray in the glove compartment. "Who knows what he'll do without adult supervision."


	5. V

Josh stepped out of the car with Dallon trailing behind him. He clutched the sketchbook in his left hand and his camera bag in the other. 

The whole scene was littered with police tape. The stairs that Tyler had climbed seemed to lead to the rooftop, because Josh could see Tyler's tuff of hair peeking from the edge.

Tyler sent him a thumbs up, to which Josh replied with his middle finger.

"Who the hell are you?" Josh turned and saw a blonde police officer eyeing him warily. He looked back at Dallon, who was too busy flirting up the medical examiner to help him.

"I'm Josh Dun, a sketch artist. I'm new here. I came with Tyler Joseph?" He phrased the last part as a question, because the officer's eyes kept narrowing until they were small slits. 

The medical examiner beside him snorted. "You're kidding me. The freak got a buddy now?"

Dallon flashed his badge. "Relax, he's with me."

The officer nodded and moved so they could walk through the door. "You can check out the woman now if you need, not like you'll get much. Joseph's snooping around upstairs and will probably come over to see her later."

Dallon nodded. "Thanks, Pat."

Josh looked over at the dead woman. She lied on her back and looked about ready to attend her own funeral, wearing all black from he bottom of her way too tall pumps to her pinned back hair circling her head like a halo.

Half of her face was covered in blood, pale blue eyes staring colorlessly at the sky. Her legs were twisted in all the wrong directions, and he could see a single red and white petal in the palm of her hand. 

Josh shuddered. Even though it did look like the woman jumped to her own death willingly, his gut told him something was terribly wrong. Maybe it was the petals he had suddenly noticed were everything in the crime scene, or maybe it was because he could feel Tyler staring bullet holes into his back. He knew he was searching for answers, but Josh had none. 

Dallon crouched beside the woman, reading her information off of a clipboard. "Delilah Nelson. She was forty two." He sighed and rubbed his eyes. "Suspected suicide. It fits the others."

"I just don't get it," Josh mumbled, quickly sketching the outline of the body. He handed Dallon the camera, who took several pictures from different angles. "Why would someone kill people and make it look like a suicide, but then turn around and fill their stomachs with petals?" 

Dallon shrugged, pulling the strap over his head and tucking the camera into its respective bag. "It's probably some cultist suicide pact. Wouldn't be the first time something like this happens."

"Cult suicide pacts?"

"Tyler overthinking a crime and making it more sinister than it actually is. Speaking of the little devil, what the hell's taking him so long?" Dallon looked up, shielding his eyes from the sun. He turned to Josh, pointing to the stairs. "Ready?"

They made their way upstairs, finding Tyler already deep into an investigation of his own. He sat back on his feet, using a pair of tweezers to collect some of the many petals lying around. 

Josh's eyes drifted to the other side of the rooftop, his heart nearly leaping out of his throat at the sight hidden by police tape.

A second body, a young male by the looks of it, was lying on the edge. One arm dangled over the side, his face obscured by blood, hair, and cloth. A pool of blood circled him identical to the woman at the bottom. His head was split open and body contorted as if he'd fallen out of the sky. 

The man's jaw seemed to be pried open and held wide with wire. Josh had a clear view down his throat, which was filled to the brim with petals. He could see the shape of more petals under the skin of the man's abdomen, and he felt like he was about to puke up evening he'd eaten for the last three days. 

"Jesus, why did no one told me there was a second body?" Josh groaned, clutching his stomach.

Tyler looked up, clearly enjoying himself a bit too much. "What's the fun in that? Come over here, army man." He motioned to the dead man. "What do you see?"

"Besides a dead guy?" Josh scoffed.

"Yes, besides a dead guy," Tyler rolled his eyes and put his hands together, staring at him, analyzing him. It made Josh feel exposed.

"Tell me what you know about this man without reading any reports. Tell me who is this man, what is his story?"

Josh stared at him. "You've got to be kidding."

Tyler stared back, completely poker faced but a smug look hiding underneath. Josh felt tempted to knock out his front teeth but refrained.

Seeing he had no other choice but to comply, he sighed in defeat, rubbing his eyes. "What do you want me to do?"

Tyler grinned, almost a genuine one, and scooted over so Josh could kneel beside the body. He gestured aimlessly.

"Examine him. What do you see?"

Josh grabbed a pair of gloves from his bag and pulled them over his hands, which shook more than usual. This was the first time he'd been near a dead body on purpose and he was hating it.

The man's eyes were half closed, but Tyler could clearly see a cloudy film over them. Blood still dripped from his nose and the corner of his mouth, and the tips of his fingers were burnt off.

"He looks like he's in his mid twenties, maybe early thirties," Josh said. "Maybe someone somebody wants to get rid of."

"Why do you think that?" Tyler asked, closing the zip lock bag of petals and tossing it behind him.

Josh picked up one of the man's hands. "No fingerprints. Whoever did this doesn't want us to know who this man is."

Tyler's mouth flickered to a small side smile, and he nodded. "What else?"

"Uh, he probably died from- something."

Tyler pushed Josh aside, snapping on a pair of rubber gloves. He inspected the man's pockets and pulled out a wallet, taking out a drivers license and freezing. 

"What? Who is it?" Josh asked.

"My old drug dealer."

Tyler resumed his inspection, tossing the wallet aside and checked the man's chest, stomach, head, and hands. He stood up straight.

"His name is Jerry Webber. He's an accountant, from what I can remember from our deals, but he deals drugs on the side to pay off his mother's hospital bills. I thought he stopped, but apparently not. He possibly belongs to the Korean Cartel that operates in Springfield. He was coming from South Korea, carried heroine for distribution. He was either kidnapped or this was a deal gone wrong. He drowned in his own blood after someone stabbed him several times. There's slight room for error, it could've also been one of his broken ribs that punctured his lung and caused him to drown. Though I do believe the internal damage given to him by whoever beat him up would've sufficed to debilitate him."

"How can you tell?" Josh asked.

Tyler lifted Jerry's hands and pulled the sleeves up to the elbow. There were rope burn marks just below the wrists, and in the crook of his elbow was a small series of symbols Josh had never seen before. 

"Korean. Don't know what it says, but I've seen it on enough dead dealers to recognize it."

He dropped the hand and tilted his head, showing the large gruesome dent left on his right temple. "Made by an aluminum baseball bat."

"And the ribs?"

"Caused by a fall."

Josh furrowed his eyebrows. "You think this was set up to look like a suicide too? Where's he going to fall from, heaven?"

"I believe this is a message." Tyler stood up and Josh followed. "For me."

Dallon scoffed from behind them. "Don't be delusional, Tyler. No one would send you message this way."

"You want to bet on that?" Tyler lifted the man's shirt. Carved into his chest, were words that sent chills down his entire body.

D ONT TR YTO F IN DUS O RWE LL C O ME AFT ER YO UTOO. Y OU DON TW AN T TO E ND UPL I KE HE R D OYO U?


End file.
